Today’s Hangover:

The End of Froge

2021–05–20

On May 20, 2016, Froge was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

In honest truth writing a eulogy for my own execution would be an impossible task. Where other men’s lives are simple enough to be condensed in a small speech about what little value they offered to the world before their passing, the sum and scope of my works would never satisfy any attempt to remark on them, and no matter how much I desire it, I have never been the most serious writer. To act seriously even in my final will and testament would be disingenuous to who I have been for the five years before this date. In the million words I created during this stretch of time, my influences were obvious, their jokes were stolen, my cynical cup runneth over endlessly, and the totality of my works were an exercise in arrogance. Arrogance in attempting to influence thought, arrogance in presenting myself as learned, and arrogance in having sufficient passion for the craft of writing that, despite all my complaints about the medium, and my audience, and myself… I wrote.

The chronology of my work is like this. 2016-05-20: Froghand was created, focusing on privacy and security. 2016-08-12: Last security-related article posted, Froghand transitions fully to rant blog. 2017-02-01: 10kB Gallery is created, with a gimmick of showcasing stolen artwork and altering them to fit a 10,000 byte filesize. Froghand abandoned. Degenerates is also born, wrangling up some of my friends into a free-culture art collective, immediately dissolved due to lack of interest, now acting as a landing page for my work. 2017-04-01: Kratzen is created, reviewing indie video games from itch.io. 10kB Gallery abandoned. Kratzen was the first project where several months pass by without uploading anything to it, in intermittent bursts. 2018-08-31: The last article I uploaded to Kratzen before an eight-month stretch of time where I disappeared from the Internet. Kratzen abandoned. 2019-05-20: Frogesay is created with no clear purpose, quickly transitioning into a rant blog. Design is inspired by Froghand, with front-page “Hangovers” a constant feature. Similar to Kratzen, contains several months of no works uploaded to it. And since you’re already reading Frogesay you might as well look around from here, on this day, 2021-05-20. The end of Froge as an entity.

I prior expressed my reasons for this retirement in “Froge will Die on May 20, 2021”. For this day to fall on Thursday the 20th, a Simpsons reference of all things, shows how much of a joke my career really was. To my credit, I kept this appointment. If I were to delay it, it would not be unusual considering my tardiness in the majority of my projects. But how disrespectful would I be against myself if I don’t even follow my desires to quit this gig? The reasons expressed were simple: I’m just plain sick of seeing you. I have outgrown this name. The chronology of my work no longer represents who I am as a person. And in being overshadowed by it, this irrelevant enterprise on an anonymous Web host, I am unable to pursue my hobbies outside the realm of writing my opinions on the Internet for the world to see. I’m not committing suicide. I’m merely abandoning the Froge persona, and never, ever writing anything under it again. This is the last Hangover. This is the last Hangover there will ever be. And if you really want to see more of my writings? Trawl through all five years of my work, because five years is all you’ll get.

The cliché is for me to say how much I enjoyed my time writing for you guys, how I’ll move on to bigger and better things, and how much I loved you all so much for being my fans and I’m gracious you’re so accommodating of whatever I will accomplish in the future. I don’t want to be hostile, but my experiences were not wholly positive. Constructing these online projects took work, and in tangible terms, I got little out of it. In intangible terms, I could talk about how my writings changed my life and how I’ll never again be the same person I was over this five year stretch of time. And that’s true. They did change my life — for the better, I’ll admit. I grew more mature, level-headed, and with an increased ability to argue my feelings in the face of the world at large. But what does that get me? Money? Fame? An increase in quality of my persistently-unreal life? I’ll tell you what I got. The ability to take any article I wrote, out of the million or so words I wrote, and to look at it, nod my head, laugh on occasion, and politely agree with the points I created because I am so smart for creating them. That’s all I got, and that’s all I’ll ever get. So it goes.

At this final Hangover, at this final junction before I dip into eternity and never write anything again, I could air out my grievances. All of them. Everything about myself, other people, the world at large, drama on the Internet, drama within my own personalised slice of the Internet, and tell all the stories of my impotent rage against the mechanisms of reality which conspire against me. I could also air out my admirations, expressing how grateful I am to be inspired by those few great individuals who I well and truly know are not full of shit, discussing the few good memories I have with my friends, what they’ve done for me, how they’ve improved my work, changed my view of the world, and have made me slightly less neurotic and slightly more interested in aspiring to be a version of myself which I would have thought impossible just a few years ago. I could do both of those. But it doesn’t matter how many people I name-check in these final words, or how much I have more to say about the world, or any other now-fleeting topic that crosses my mind. Because I’m dead.

Do you really want to know what I have to say about my time under Froge? Here it is.

The past five years I’ve experienced under the name of Froge has taught me more about the desperation of the human condition than I ever expect to be privy to again. At the same time that independent artists are the most brilliant, exceptional, talented individuals who create true beauty which is worth staying alive to see, they are also some of the most neurotic, whiny, infantile little milksops who are inconsistent in their personality and values to the point where forging friendships with them is an exercise in gaslighting yourself to see how much of their bullshit you’re willing to put up with before abandoning them forever. They are all at once egotistical, cowardly, duplicitous, dramatic, unintelligent, uncharismatic, and overwhelmingly petty to a degree where it is impossible to forge a relationship with anyone but the most simple-minded, inoffensive individuals who will agree with whatever you say merely to get you to shut up. I am sick of representing myself on the Internet as the most honest version of myself only to be condemned for being one of the few individuals who genuinely speaks his mind — and to the point, I am sick of embodying these very same qualities that I criticise other people for being. I’m tired of getting shit for my writings, my opinions, and the ideas I express, tired of having to justify them to random idiots on the Internet, and I’m tired of contributing to the continued degradation of public discourse through my honest expressions of my own personal philosophy.

But that’s one side of the same story. Because those very same qualities had endeared me strongly to those few people who understood me and were willing to come to terms with the reasons I wrote in the way I did. Just as much as I am an arrogant idiot with an ego which rivals that of any online influencer, I am also, as I have demonstrated in the past, capable of those rare moments of empathy with fellow man and attempting to come to terms with their differences from me in a reasoned and respectable manner. I found those few friends who I did not have to misrepresent myself towards in order to gain a relationship with. I found some people who did not merely reflect my ideas in an echo chamber, but asked why I possess them and made me think about why I thought those ideas at all. Like adolescent bliss, I grew fond of my friends. As time has gone by, I have lost them all. This is acceptable to me. It’s the natural state of the world to lose everyone you ever cared about. But for those moments I got to experience across all these years, I am grateful to those who bothered to meet me on this overlong journey. I may not remember you the whole of my life, but I can remember you now. Isn’t that enough, to be cared about in passing, if not forever?

I have come to terms with the knowledge that my feelings about myself and these artefacts of my own creation are irrelevant in the face of people who aren’t me. The vast majority of my artistic turmoil comes from people misunderstanding, misinterpreting, or showing deliberate ignorance of who I am and why I write what I write, in the way I write it, in the medium I write it in. It has taken me a long, long time to understand this simple truth which is obvious to anyone who has bothered to create anything in the public eye for any amount of time: other people aren’t your problem, and other people’s feelings about you aren’t your problem either. My work is a long, long reconciliation between my desire to present the best version of myself I know how to present in the eyes of strangers on the Internet, and the desire to find acceptance and gratitude among people who are reading my work for the simple reason there is nobody else who is creating my work in the way I create it.

After five years of this public discourse, this public therapy, I have reconciled these feelings. I have become less and less interested in the opinions of my fellow man, because my fellow man is full of shit. Other people’s criticisms of my work no longer hold water with me, as I have gained the knowledge that the only individuals who truly know anything about an artistic work is the person who created that work — even when its author doesn’t hold coherent opinions on their own work, and even when fans of that work dedicate much of their time analyzing it in order to verify their own ideas of the world. It is becoming more and more rare for me to find individual writers, artists, and creators whose work makes me feel the emotions I wish to feel on a regular basis. Feelings that I am witnessing great work are becoming more and more rare as well, and the most insightful commentary I am reading is the commentary I have written in months gone by. My faith in the human condition at large, despite how much I express my genuine affection for those small parts of it, is becoming increasingly misanthropic and I am unable to continue writing for an audience I don’t know and am unable to reach out and understand myself. I am a critic, who after all this time, can finally take criticism. Isn’t that a bitch?

My writings no longer fulfill me, my websites no longer interest me, and I have not created an enterprise that will benefit me in the future. In consideration of what I want to accomplish as a writer in public and as a human being in private, the most pragmatic course of action for me to take is to abandon all further writings under the Froge persona, abandon all further contact with all individuals under the Froge persona, and to abandon all references to it in any works I may or may not create as a human being in any future period of time. I will not make any attempts to alter, archive, maintain, make acceptable, or to change, in any way, the work I have created before this date. I will not write any more words, I will not make any more projects, and I will not exist in any form as Froge, for the future, until I am dead, forever.

In consideration of everyone I had met over the years, who may bear witness to my website by virtue of nostalgia over relationships long gone, I offer you these final messages, in inverse order of importance.

I start with the Neocities users, my home and habitat. Owly, our contact was brief and our time was fleeting. I wrote you an e-mail titled “What is a Furry?”, and you published it, then depublished it after I threw it onto Kratzen. It is immediately and intensely obvious you have changed since then. I urge you to delete your older works so you aren’t accosted by dysphoria forever. Yes, delete them. You can do this because of the stark difference between your current and past persona, where I cannot since I am merely a more refined representation of who I started out as. This is not my first abandonment of an Internet persona, and it will not be my last. I will tell you from experience that deleting all of your work in a delirious afternoon is one of the greatest feelings a human being can ever have. If you don’t listen to me, listen to yourself. You’re your own cunt.

lolwut, our time is similarly brief. I ignored your blog for several years despite knowing it would be one of the few blogs I would enjoy. I was wrong for that. We were never friends, but we had common interests, and that is enough. I am grateful for your criticisms on my article, “4chan: A Song of Kek and Cringe”. They will never be enacted. As you have left Neocities, so has everyone else I have known on this platform. It is a brilliant website, and on a technical level, it has not changed one bit since I first joined in 2017. But the users have, innumerably, and it’s fitting that I am leaving as well. I’m happy for all the comments you left on my website updates, and I’m happy to annoy you in turn. You can feel proud you are the only user I have followed for any length of time since Frogesay’s existence, and know I will continue to represent one of the increasingly-shrinking members of an audience who knows the value of preserving an Internet that will never, ever exist again.

Kva64. At one point we had a nice friendship, forged due to circumstances I forgot, and abandoned due to apathy. I became privy to long dissertations about the state of your post-Soviet country, and got to understand and learn more about your hobbies, as eccentric and creative as they are. Through our experiences I was grateful to assist you in whatever advice you requested, and in doing so learned more about myself through learning about you. Our time together is undramatic and has no set resolution, nor do I have any lasting regrets regarding it. To use the tautology, it is what it is, and we will never have anything more than what was.

Strata. Where the hell do I begin with you? You were a close friend for a brief moment in time, and now that this time has passed over the years, it’s like you had never existed at all. You make my neuroticism look like nothing in comparison, and you’ve gone to war against your website more times than Germany has against Russia. Our conversations were long and whinging, we planned to enact projects together, and I even maintain the “rabbit.html” easter egg because it was the name of your website’s landing page. I eagerly awaited every redesign of your website, and I still feel some pain knowing I’ll never get to read your words again. You were honest and interesting, and I don’t know the precise circumstances of why we broke off our relationship. I don’t know the circumstances of why you continually quit Neocities, either. But understand I have kept your influence preserved in my work over the years, and I am happy for that brief period of time I knew you. I have one demand, though. Just leave. Don’t come back to this place. Don’t fucking bother.

I would also like to thank Kyle Drake, founder of Neocities, for maintaining the only Web platform which aligns with my personal philosophies on software and privacy. As evidence of his once-burning passion for the platform, at my request in 2017, he whitelisted GIMP’s XCF format for upload to Neocities sites, which I used on 10kB gallery. The 10kB Gallery is immortalised in Neocities lore through being featured in a blog post about tipping, on a blog which has not been updated since 2019. For all I know, my websites are being hosted on a dead platform which will never be updated again, and it’s only a matter of time before they are nuked from orbit. The current irrelevancy of this platform is proven in there being no results for “neocities” on rule34.paheal.net, despite the existence of a catty futch mascot named Penelope. Maybe I’m right in abandoning this platform when I have. One day a stray cat will trip over the wires and all my life’s work will be annihilated forever. But to the website’s credit, Neocities has been mostly-functional ever since I first started in 2016, and though updates have been slim pickings on a declining userbase, I have not regretted my decisions to set up shop here, and I hope it will continue to be updated so similarly disillusioned individuals can have their words be heard.

I will also give remarks to the hoards of independent artists who I will my life in eternal envy of. Elizabeth Bodanese, whose brilliancy in ink and space is above description. Shane Frost, who exists at the edge of imagination which I will never reach. Zenirix, whose portraiture was astonishing five years ago, imbued with endless character, and continues to evolve the same. fmirsokp, an artist of many names and just as much mystery, who breaks the boundaries of cartooning and shows colours without compromise. Tyson Tan, who proves the value of professionalism in free culture and the ability to create beauty in free software where none prior was. Asura, who always, without fail, always replied to every comment I left on their artwork, and at no point betrayed their appreciation for my doing so. This punctuality matters more to me than any popularity ever has, and I am grateful for this respect given to me. I conclude with Higgly, whose ponies and dogs show spunk, snark, and occasional sadness, whose work was never appreciated as much as I know it should be. You were a friend of two years with a beautiful heart and uninhibited interests, who knew me in a period of life when I did not know myself. I miss you every time I see your art. Those feelings don’t matter no more.

I want to take special notice to thank my friend of many years, SheepishGamer, for accepting my retirement. He is the only person I have any relations with anymore who knows anything about my writings. We have spent years talking to each other on-and-off, and in honest truth, if I knew how little time I would have with him, I would not have taken it for granted, and I would not have talked to him so little. The indie games he created demonstrate wit and imagination that makes mine look inferior, and our friendship began when I had told him about my review, all those years ago on Froghand, of “Tem Dayting Sim”. We made a visual novel together, over three days, and it was named “Three Drunk Pissed-Off Frogs”. Fast forward from the ancient days of 2017, and here we are, breaking up. At my advice, and after urging him to make use of his beautiful artistic talents, he has begun an enterprise of posting comics on DeviantART and on his Twitter account. I suggested this out of the intertwining desires of public therapy, artistic prolificness, and to meet people with a similar worldview as him. He made a comic about me. I cried when I saw it. And those tears will be all that will be left of our relationship.

And to my anonymous, equally froggy friend of six years, whose name I don’t know, who I have abandoned forever, who was subjected to constant dialogues about my emotional state, my complaints on the world, and who has decided to browse this website out of some act of curiosity. You know who you are. You know what you’ve done for me. Accept the memories as they are, and understand you are a part of a period of my life I am no longer interested in remembering. You expected this, and I am enacting it. Above any and all human beings I’ve had the privilege to know and understand, you are the most influential in my life. I am sorry for direspecting you. I am sorry for my ingratitude. It is obvious our decision to remove each other from our lives has been beneficial to both of us in ways we have yet to fully comprehend. My last request of you is to understand when people like me cannot be helped outside of their own desires, and above all, to find satisfaction in yourself in the way you have slowly allowed me to find. This is my final message.

In reverence to my inspirations over the years, whose value is immeasurable to my life despite never knowing me, I will list off some names.

Winston Rowntree, who I hope in future time will be known as one of webcomic’s most thoughtful, inventive, and humanitarian artists, whose art and writings over the years have changed my worldview for the better. Yahtzee Croshaw, who remains the funniest writer I’ve ever read, and whose body of work forms the basis for my humour, my prose, my cynicism, my endless references ripped-off, and the way I write in the style I write. May I hope to find anyone to obsess over like I have him, and may Zero Punctuation run until his last grasping breath. DigiBronyMLP, the greatest voice on media analysis that will ever be spoken, and the public individual who I have been more privy to the private life of than any other. I will not link their work; it was made in a period in their life that will never exist again, and in respect of my own death, I will revere their decision. John Enter, at one point a critic whose words I took to heart at every turn, I now heed with skepticism due to the antiquation of his format and inconsistency of his current output. Seven years ago, he was pragmatic, prolific, and as exacting as it comes, whose fine-combed analysis of cartoons admonished bad work in exhaustive detail and brought faith and joy for the medium when he covered brilliant work. Now I cannot be inspired by him, because I don’t know who he is anymore.

Vincent Pizzapasta, of Vinesauce, who has tirelessly produced the greatest livestreamed content that the world has ever gotten to see, and whose depth and breadth of experiences I have spent eight years of my life in admiration of. Don’t let the bastards get you down. Penn & Teller, whose skill and showmanship is above reproach, and whose tireless dedication to skepticism and debunking pseudoscience will always be welcome to me. videogamedunkey, who continually punches below his weight for failing to express his insights on video games, and who is consistently the most clever voice on YouTube, with a grasp of comedy and charisma that makes my writings look like those of a clown. Seth Godin, whose writings on business, education, artistry, and humanity at large have made him the author whose books I have most read, and I have heeded his words when considering the fears and insecurities I’ve had the whole of my life. And Nina Paley, whose artistic prowess and anti-copyright activism once made her the woman I most admired, I list as a caution against idolatry: her transphobic obsessions has tainted forever the work I once looked up to, and I dedicate my writings to my queer brethren to the detriment of the inane ramblings of obsolete artists.

There are more names, of course, but these are the important ones.

I know my readers are here for various reasons. Interest in technology, media analysis, socialist rants, cringe culture, and so on. What they all have in common is that they have a maturity and respect that is absent from the vast majority of Internet fanbases. They are smart. They are honest, kind, and genuine. They care about themselves, and they care about others. For this reason, I have one demand of you before my death. I ask that you support your independent artists, that you give a compliment to them. I ask that you send them a message and say what their work means to you. I ask that you be direct and forthcoming in your feelings, because your feelings matter, and I know you know enough about yourself to make them known. If you have the means and ability to make your voice heard, whether as an artist or an audience member, you have the privilege to change someone’s life for the better, even if it’s in a tiny, tiny way. Please. Don’t be afraid to be better than yourself. Don’t be afraid to talk to someone. Because if I was too afraid, back when I was younger and dumber, to show people what I thought of their work in honest and direct terms? I wouldn’t be here showing you all these brilliant people, and I wouldn’t be trying to make you as brilliant as they are.

I will spend the rest of my short life in pursuit of emotional highs, artistic depictions of my emotional lows, and attempting to find balance in this inherently imbalanced medium of existence itself. I will reach out to the stars and aspire for greatness despite the dirt I trod on, and I will find comfort in individuals who understand me better than I could hope to understand myself. I will trawl across the entire palette of human experience in a silly, simple belief in the value of staying alive, and I will throw myself into any affair which makes me feel like my journey to the grave is one worth trekking. I will find great things as I live as my mediocre self, and if I am given the generosity, good fortune, and determination to continue my life in the way I want to live it, then I hope to be cemented in history as a human being that other human beings can look up to and feel bad for not living the life I have lived. I will spend my limited time on Earth in pursuit of the ideal that others can find solace in my words, inspiration in my actions, and understanding that I, among all humans, was nothing more than a man — in all the goodness, and all the evil, inherent in being one.

My final desire is for all mankind to find comfort in learning and knowledge of self, peace with their feelings and perceptions of self, and to make this world beautiful where the people within it are all so very ugly.

There is nothing more to say.

With ♥, from Froge.

Goodbye.